


To Boldly Go

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Blow Jobs, Captain Shiro (Voltron), First Meetings, Galra Keith (Voltron), Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-12 23:27:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18456809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: Stardate 97349.46. Captain Shirogane of the Starship Atlas establishes orbit around Daibazaal and is tasked with showing the ambassadors around the ship for the few vargas it'll take for Admiral Iverson to arrive for treaty negotiations.Of course, the Captain and Ambassador Keith have other ways to spend their time.





	To Boldly Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ailurea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ailurea/gifts).



> (I will not apologize for this title.) Fic request from [Sarah](https://twitter.com/ailurea), who asked for a Star Trek-ish AU where Captain Shiro meets Ambassador Keith of Daibazaal. Hope you like the finished product!
> 
> Eternal thanks to [Juna](https://twitter.com/ailurea) for reading this over. ♥
> 
> (Edited December 2019 for typos/grammar)

Shiro disconnects the call with Admiral Iverson with a sigh, rubbing his thumb in a small circle at his brow to ease away the encroaching headache. He’s going on approximately twenty-four vargas without sleep, but it’s hard to know exactly how long with the shifting day-cycles. He just has a little bit longer to go and then he can maybe sneak in a ten-dobash nap. If he’s lucky.

The day isn’t over yet, he reminds himself. They might have established orbit around Daibazaal with plenty of time to pick up the ambassadors, but there are still a few vargas left before the Admiral and his fleet arrive for the treaty-signing. And that’s not even accounting for how long the meetings will go. Shiro’s staring down the barrel at many, many more vargas of wakefulness. 

Diplomacy is a big part of the job, Shiro knows. He certainly wouldn’t wish peril and danger— the alternative to peaceful, friendly negotiations with newly-inducted Federation members— on his crew but he also wishes, sometimes, that it was acceptable for the captain of the ship to delegate. If he could find a diplomatic way of getting out of such matters as attending meetings or giving starship tours to ambassadors, he absolutely would. 

Shiro sighs as he adjusts the cuffs to his dress uniform, striding towards the transporter room to greet the entourage of Galra diplomats. 

When he enters the room, he gives the go-ahead to the transporter engineer. Shiro stands at attention, hands clasped behind his back as he waits, listening for the familiar hum of the transfer going through. As the ambassadors from Daibazaal appear on the transporter pad, dressed in their traditional robes and hoods, Shiro lets out one last little sigh and steels himself for another long day. 

Whatever fatigue Shiro’s feeling, however, disappears the moment the ambassadors remove their hoods. He recognizes Ambassador Krolia well enough— the Atlas patrols the system often and he’s coordinated with her enough times— but this is his first time meeting her son, Keith. That’s who Shiro can’t help but stare at now, as he throws the hood back from his head. 

He’s handsome, Shiro won’t deny that, with the long sway of his braid draped over his shoulder, the fine points of his ears, the slight purple flush to his skin, and the twin stripes matching his mother’s on both cheeks. And his eyes. 

Keith is staring at Shiro, too. When their eyes meet, something sparks immediately, low in Shiro’s gut, in a way he’s never actually felt before. Shiro's eyes widen, just as Keith’s do. It feels almost like a pulse through the air, something that hits deep in Shiro’s gut. 

Shiro thinks to himself that he should tear his eyes away but finds he can’t. He isn’t sure what makes him feel so anchored to Keith, only that he feels it with every cell in his body. The entire universe continues to exist around them, but all Shiro can focus on is Keith. It seems Keith’s equally as affected, his mouth opening in a small part of his lips, although no words exit. 

Shiro isn’t sure how long they stare at each other, silent. 

Beside Ambassador Keith, Ambassador Krolia turns, just slightly, her eyes widening as she looks at her son. Keith gives her a slightly panicked look and glances down, his cheeks flushing deep purple. Shiro thinks he’s still peeking at Shiro through his lashes, though. Still feels the deep current of their eyes on one another. 

“Am—” Shiro pauses and clears his throat, flushing at the small crack in his voice. “Ambassadors.” 

Krolia turns her head away from Keith to regard Shiro and nods. “Captain Shirogane.” 

“ _Hello and welcome aboard the Atlas, Honored Guests,_ ” Shiro says, in his best attempt at the Galra language. The two diplomats look surprised. Shiro approaches, arm held out for the traditional greeting and Ambassador Krolia grasps his arm first, hold firm at the elbow, before releasing him. 

“Your accent is horrible,” Ambassador Keith says once Shiro moves to him. His smile is playful.

Shiro laughs, taken aback at the undiplomatic bluntness, something warm squirming in his belly. He says, in a low, conspiring whisper, “I don’t want to admit how long I practiced, then.” 

“Not long enough, I’d say,” Keith answers, grinning. There’s something shy in Keith’s smile, his canines slightly pointed. He seems to have recovered quickly from the blatant stare-down. Shiro wishes he could say the same of himself, still feeling flushed under his collar. 

Keith grasps Shiro’s elbow in the traditional greeting. His grip is steady, his hand slender but strong. Shiro’s temporarily floored by the feeling of his delicate fingers tucked against the well of his elbow. Up close, Keith looks younger than Shiro expected, but his eyes are bright. Shiro knows it’s entirely too sentimental to think they look like the cosmos themselves. He thinks it anyway. 

“Maybe I’ll have to ask you for pointers,” Shiro says and, before he can think to stop it, winks at Keith. Definitely a breech in some sort of universal protocol. He watches Keith’s mouth part again and that flush spread over his cheeks. Shiro knows he must be equally as pink-faced. He has _never_ done that before, much less in front of a diplomat’s mother.

Who, standing beside Keith, gives a pointed little clear to her throat. 

“Um. Right. Admiral Iverson sends his welcome, too,” Shiro says, releasing Keith’s elbow and stepping back. He sweeps his hand out, gesturing towards the door. “He’s still some vargas out, but in the meantime, I’d be happy to show you to your rooms. I could also give you a tour of the ship, if you’d like.” 

He leaves the engineers to beam up the rest of the Galra entourage, the contingency of Blades serving as nominal guards and guests. Shiro leads the two ambassadors to their rooms and tries to politely ignore the low murmurs Keith and Krolia exchange behind him; their words are low enough that his universal translator can’t quite catch them, and Shiro does his best to _not_ eavesdrop pointedly, even if they aren’t the least bit subtle. He thinks he hears his name at one point. 

It’s a short walk to the diplomats’ quarters. Shiro set aside some of the best rooms for the two ambassadors, but once they reach them, Krolia gives her son a weighted look before begging off from a tour. 

“I should rest,” she says, even though she doesn’t look tired at all, and doesn’t seem the type to sit around resting meditatively. “I’ve seen enough starships to know their general layout.” 

“Mom,” Keith begins, a quiet protest, but Krolia simply cups his cheeks and presses a kiss to his forehead. He goes silent at that, flushing. 

“I leave him in your care, Captain,” she declares, and then lets the door shut behind her with a definitive whoosh, leaving Keith and Shiro in the hallway. 

“... Well,” Shiro says slowly, turning towards Keith to find Keith already looking at him. 

The words are there for Shiro to say, but he’s lost his breath just looking at Keith. There isn’t anything particularly romantic about the lighting in the standard hallway of a starship, and yet Keith looks striking beneath it. 

Shiro wonders if his cheeks are ever going to stop feeling so warm. “I…” Shiro fumbles. “Don’t feel you have to have a tour, if you’d rather rest, too.”

Keith peers up at him, eyes dark and considering. He glances down, lifting his hands to fiddle with the end of his braid, like a nervous fidget. His fingers are long, slender, like a musician’s. Shiro’s seized, quite suddenly, with the desire to touch him. Maybe he’s more tired than he thought. 

“No,” Keith says quietly. “I’d like to see your ship. I’d like…” 

He trails off and looks up at Shiro once more. Shiro can’t help but stare back, tethered again by that irrevocable need to just keep _looking_. Once more, Shiro feels that strange pulse of connection— like they were meant to meet, like there’s nothing else in the universe. Keith’s eyes burn bright in the dim light of the hallway. 

Like before, Shiro isn’t sure how much time passes as they simply staring at each other. 

“Okay,” Shiro says after a lengthy pause, and then can’t help but smile at Keith, wide and boyish. He must look ridiculous. “I hear I give a fairly mediocre tour, though, so don’t expect great things.” 

Keith’s mouth quirks into a playful smile as he steps closer to Shiro, his hand lifting to touch his arm. It lingers there and slides, touches at the crook of his elbow before dropping away. The path of his fingers leaves Shiro burning. 

“I’ll be the judge of your performance,” Keith declares, and Shiro feels his flush spread to the tips of his ears now. 

The tour is, as far as Shiro’s concerned, even less than fairly mediocre. He leads Keith through the main level, the observation decks, the botany department, the engine room, the recreation levels, and finally up to the bridge. He keeps forgetting what he’s saying every other sentence, trailing off stupidly every time he turns and sees Keith just staring at him. The crew on the bridge maintaining the orbit around Daibazaal give him pitying looks. Veronica looks downright delighted to see her captain so flustered. 

“I must be boring you,” Shiro says with an embarrassed chuckle as they take the elevator down off the bridge and step out, passing through another observation deck. 

“No,” Keith says, entirely too earnest. He looks down again, biting his lip. The tips of his pointed ears flush a red-purple that Shiro finds extremely pretty. Shiro sighs and stands there, awkward and longing, on an observation deck, staring at a diplomat he doesn’t even know but _wants_ like a physical ache. 

Shiro really needs to get a hold of himself. He has no idea why he’s reacting this way, so without focus, so anchored to Keith’s eyes. His blood is singing. His body is coiled up, tensed and expectant. He wants to be closer. He needs to be closer. Keith is standing so close to him, his fingertips touching one of the panels encircling the observation deck. So, so close to just touching where Shiro’s hand rests in turn. It’d take so little to step closer to him, to fall into his orbit. 

“Captain,” Keith begins.

“You can call me Shiro,” he interrupts. 

“Shiro,” Keith whispers, testing the name, and Shiro’s _never_ loved the way his name sounds quite as much as when Keith says it. He might actually make a stupid, soft sound in response. Keith must hear it, too, because he studies him, quiet and thoughtful, and then steps just that little bit closer to Shiro. Shiro sucks in a sharp breath, loud as a phaser-blast in the quiet.

On the panel, Keith’s fingers trace forward and, just barely, touch Shiro’s hand. Shiro doesn’t move his hand away and Keith, emboldened by it, lets his fingers rest over Shiro’s. His fingertips touch his knuckles, and it’s a nothing touch, so simple, but Shiro’s on fire. 

He knows it’s been a while for him, but even this feels like too much. He should probably be more embarrassed about it than he feels. 

“You should call me Keith, then,” Keith murmurs, low. Shiro nods his head even though Keith’s not looking at him. Instead, Keith studies their hands. He licks his lips. “Shiro—” 

“Yeah?” Shiro asks, hurried, and watches Keith smile and laugh a little. “Sorry,” he says, quietly, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

Keith looks up at him once more, eyes bright. “Shiro,” he says again, “I know this is going to sound… stupid, but I—” 

He frowns and seems to second-guess himself. Shiro’s about to assure him, about to ask, but instead Keith just lifts his hands up, cups Shiro’s face, and yanks him down. He kisses Shiro like it’s a contest, like if he doesn’t do it now, it’ll never happen and Shiro _gasps_ against his mouth. He hardly has time to think to kiss him back before Keith’s stepping away in a hurry, swallowing. 

“Um,” Keith says, flushed. “I—” 

Shiro’s chasing after him, though, curling an arm around his waist and pulling him in and kissing him again. He feels Keith make a quiet little moan and then he loops his arms around Shiro’s neck and kisses him in turn. If the touch to his hand was intoxicating, this is blissful, the slide of Keith’s mouth against his, the whisper of his teeth against his lip, the glide of his tongue. Shiro’s drowning, and he’s never been happier for it. He holds Keith tight and presses closer to him, deepens the kiss with the slightest pressure of his lips to his. Keith makes a low, keening sound. 

Relieved it’s not just him, that Keith must feel it, too, Shiro tips forward; they stumble their way across the observation deck until he presses Keith up against the wall near the door. Keith groans, sharp little nails digging into the skin at the back of Shiro’s neck. 

Keith gropes around blindly behind him until he finds the control panel— not for the main entrance, but the door beside it. It opens and Keith yanks him inside. 

It’s one of the little cubbies for the ladders that lead to the engineering chutes, used in case of emergencies or when the elevators go down. The door shuts behind them and flushes them in darkness. Keith pushes Shiro up against the wall. 

“I— I have captain’s quarters,” Shiro says helplessly between the flurry of kisses he presses to Keith’s mouth. “If you want a—” 

Keith cups his face again and kisses him and Shiro forgets entirely what he was trying to say, intoxicated by the feeling of Keith’s fingers hooking at his jaw. He makes a soft sound and lets Keith crowd against him, ducks his head to slant his mouth to Keith’s. For a moment, it’s all he can do. He can’t breathe. He can’t focus. All there is to concentrate on is the curve of Keith’s mouth, the huff of his breath. 

“I’ve never— I don’t usually do this,” Keith whispers against his mouth, barely pulling away to breathe. His lips ghost against Shiro’s.

“Me neither,” Shiro confesses, his heart pounding. “I’ve… no. Never.”

He’s never done this before, no, but it doesn’t feel strange to hold Keith like this, to tuck into this little corner together. Shiro doesn’t even question it, not really. It feels right. He doesn’t know how to explain it, that feeling of such surety and knowing. Keith bites at Shiro's bottom lip, then smooths his tongue into his mouth and Shiro groans, low and needy, and grips Keith tight. He could fall into a forever like this. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Shiro sighs into the kiss, his hand tangling up in Keith’s hair. It’s thick, almost like fur more than hair, soft and velvety like a chinchilla’s or whatever other nonsense Terran equivalent he can summon up. He likes the feel of it, likes the feel of _Keith_ pressing against him. He tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of Keith’s neck and tips his head back, pressing a kiss to his jaw and then the curve of his throat. Keith’s skin is flushed, fevered against his mouth. Shiro feels his adam’s apple bob. 

Keith laughs, breathless. When he speaks, Shiro feels it vibrate against his lips, where he presses sloppy kisses to his throat. “I’m sure you say that to all the ambassadors you sneak into dark corners.” 

Shiro laughs, too, embarrassed, and noses at the line of Keith’s jaw. He fells Keith swallow, the little hush of his breath. Keith’s hands brush over his shoulders and cup the back of his head. It’s easy for him to guide Shiro away from his neck, his slight frame belying his strength. 

“I want you,” Keith says, bold, as their eyes meet. 

“I— me too. Yeah,” Shiro whispers and feels his body heat just from the curve of Keith’s relieved smile, the brightness in his eyes. They almost glow there, in the darkness of the ladder room. Keith leans in and kisses him and Shiro sighs, gripping him tight and murmuring, “You can have me.” 

“I’ve wanted to meet you for some time,” Keith admits, trailing a series of kisses up the line of Shiro’s jaw, one hand dragging down his chest. 

“Really?” Shiro asks, genuinely surprised. His heart kicks up a beat in his chest. “I didn’t realize much news of the Garrison would reach Daibazaal.” 

“Oh, I joined the academy for a time,” Keith sighs as Shiro nuzzles at the smooth column of his neck, his mouth brushing in faint stripes enough to get Keith to start trembling in his arms, his grip tight at Shiro’s shoulders. He’s breathless, laughing a little when he adds, “I didn’t last long.” 

Speaking of lasting— Shiro shifts his leg between Keith’s legs and presses upward, flushing the hard line of Keith’s cock up against his thigh. Keith gives a quiet little trill that Shiro’s quickly becoming addicted to. 

“Ah, mmm,” Keith sighs and tips Shiro’s head up so he can slant his mouth against his, the tiny points of his teeth digging into Shiro’s bottom lip. The hand on his chest dips lower, over his stomach. Keith untucks the uniform and brushes his hand up over Shiro’s skin, touching first at his abs and then his chest. 

“You heard of me, then, at the academy?” Shiro asks, amazed. 

Keith laughs. “The youngest captain in Starfleet history? Yes. I’ve heard of you.”

Shiro draws back with an incredulous look and Keith smiles, touching Shiro’s cheek, his thumb tracing along the line of his jaw. 

“You’re more handsome in person,” Keith decides, and grins when Shiro ducks his head, laughing and blushing. 

“Well, I’ve heard of you, too,” Shiro confesses, kissing one of the stripes on Keith’s cheek. Keith makes a small sound of surprise and Shiro presses his face into his hair, sighing. “Senior Blade to the Blade of Marmora? That’s no small feat.” 

“Please,” Keith says, laughing and breathless, and Shiro doesn’t know if it’s dismissal or a plea for Shiro to move. Keith shifts, rocking his hips down so he’s grinding against Shiro’s thigh. 

Shiro presses in and kisses Keith again. He presses harder with his thigh, his hands dragging down Keith’s sides, over his ribs and gripping his waist. Keith makes that little trill again and then groans. Shiro feels his cock harden against his thigh. 

“I really don’t usually do this,” Shiro confesses, again. He fumbles over the words, a flustered impulse, but a need to assure Keith. Somehow, deep in his gut, there’s that surety that it’s _only_ Keith. And Keith needs to know it, too. 

Keith hooks one arm around Shiro’s neck and drops his hand down to palm his cock through his uniform trousers. “I know. Now shut up and fuck me.” 

He swallows Shiro’s gasp of pleased shock with his mouth, kissing him hard and biting. 

The space is so small and there’s too many layers of their clothes to properly disrobe, but Keith seems determined, untucking Shiro’s uniform and getting at his belt while Shiro runs his hands over him. Shiro pushes aside the drape of his robes over his shoulders until they drop to the ground, revealing a simple tunic and trouser combo. He rucks up Keith’s tunic and marvels at the stripes curving around his hipbones.

Keith ducks his head, biting and kissing Shiro’s neck as he shimmies closer, getting Shiro’s pants down off his hips enough so he can look at his cock. And he does seem to _look_ , just studying him for a long moment, forehead pressed against Shiro’s throat. 

Shiro swallows, not quite self-conscious, but curious to see Keith’s reaction as he studies Shiro’s cock. It swells under Keith's gaze, and Shiro lets out an appreciative little groan when Keith drops his hand and curls his fingers around him, stroking experimentally. 

Keith lets go of him only enough to yank his tunic up over his head. Shiro stares at his chest, the curve of his stripes, trailing down his cheeks and neck and his chest, settling at his hips. He ducks down and presses a kiss first to his neck, then his shoulder, biting at Keith’s collarbone as his hand reaches out to slip beneath Keith’s trousers and cup his cock in his hand.

“Oh,” Keith whispers, a hitch in his breath. He presses up against Shiro’s hand. 

“Okay?” Shiro whispers against his shoulder. 

Keith turns his head and nuzzles into Shiro’s hair with a huff of his breath and a roll of his hips up into the loose circle of Shiro’s hand. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Shiro…” 

Shiro shivers at the sound of his name and only just manages to hold back a pleased whimper as Keith squeezes his cock and strokes him. Shiro mimics him, matching his pace as he slides his hand down along the length of his cock. 

“Let me see you,” Shiro whispers. Keith squirms a little, then hooks his thumb in his pants enough to drag it down and expose his cock, twitching in Shiro’s hand. 

And Shiro looks, studying him: the flushed purple cock in his hand, its thin, tapered point so different from the crown of Shiro’s own cock, and the generous precome that beads up at its rounded end, sliding down to slick over Shiro’s fingers. 

“Wow,” Shiro says and Keith laughs, embarrassed. 

“Come here,” Keith whispers, his pants slipping down mid-thigh as he presses full-bodied to Shiro, his cock sliding up against Shiro’s enough to make Shiro gasp. Like this, he wishes there was even less space between them, wishes he didn’t have his uniform on, wishes he could lay Keith out on a bed and take his time with him. 

He doesn’t know how much time they have left; he doesn’t know if they’re between Gamma Shift or Delta Shift, and if a poor, stupid engineer isn’t about to come tumbling out of the engineering chutes above and try to slide down the ladder and end up with an eyeful of their captain kissing a diplomat. There’s a small thrill to that danger, to imagining what it’d be like to hear movement above and have to grip Keith tight to him, protectively. 

Still, part of him hopes, however unlikely, this isn’t a one-time thing. Maybe he’d be able to take his time, be able to study every inch of Keith. The other possibility is startling in how much he doesn’t want it— the idea of Keith going away, departing with the rest of the ambassadors once the treaty’s signed, sends a small panic coiling in his chest. He grips Keith tight and kisses him hard, swallowing Keith’s little purr and gasp. 

It’s strange, to do something like this. It’s true that Shiro usually doesn’t, and it’s been a while, but there’s something intoxicating to holding Keith in his arms, to learn his body, to hear these soft sounds, to see how his own body reacts to Keith’s touch, to his exploration. 

Keith sets a steady pace against him, taking Shiro’s hand to curl loosely around their cocks and rolls his hips against him, his precome slicking the way. Shiro gasps and moans with each drag of their skin to skin, with the pass of Keith’s hand at his chest, then his hip, the bite of his kiss. 

“Keith,” he gasps. He bites at Keith’s mouth and sucks on his bottom lip, lingering close. “Can I suck you off?” 

“Oh!” Keith gasps.

“I’m pretty good at it,” Shiro says stupidly, and grins at Keith when he breaks the kiss. 

Keith snorts, blushing as he grins back. “Well. By all means, Captain. You’re the commanding officer.”

He’s teasing, but Shiro hardly needs more motivation. He shifts and presses Keith back against the wall for support before he’s quick to kneel in a pool of Keith’s clothes, the thick robes cushioning his knees. Keith’s fingers skitter and cup his head, his hair too short to tangle up in. 

“You’re a pretty sight, Captain,” Keith murmurs, and heat builds up in Shiro’s chest as he looks up at him and smiles, ridiculous and besotted. 

With two quick strokes to Keith’s cock, Shiro presses close and slides his mouth over the head. 

“Ahh,” Keith gasps, and then sighs, relaxing back against the wall and digging his fingers in deep to the back of Shiro’s neck. “ _Shiro._ ” 

And Shiro wants to take his time, wants to put on a show for Keith. He slides his mouth down, pillowing his lips, laving his tongue against the slick heat of his cock, swallowing down around him. His cock is heavy on his tongue in the best way and it’s been so _long_ since Shiro ever let himself get lost in this, but it feels different, somehow, to do this for Keith— to slide his mouth and lips and tongue over him, to press his hands against his hips and keep him pinned to the wall as he bobs his head. 

He takes Keith’s sounds as his guide for what Keith likes, fueled on by the gasping huffs of his moans, the delighted little trills, the slow, sensual little purrs that rasp his breath when he pants out Shiro’s name. Keith is _loud_ , especially as Shiro swirls his tongue along the long length of his cock, and Shiro’s addicted to that already. There’s no cockhead for him to corkscrew his tongue around, but there’s a slit he can lap at, which pulls kittenish mewls from Keith, who then presses a hand to his mouth to quiet himself. 

Shiro stops pinning Keith there and, with some coaxing from him, Keith hits a sloppy pace as he rocks into Shiro’s mouth, fucking him in shallow little thrusts. Shiro doesn’t choke but the urge to is there, to press too close, to take him too deep, to take Keith’s thrust up and meet him. Instead, he takes it slow, makes his mouth slick and open and soft for Keith, lapping at him, tasting him. Keith pants, fingers digging tight into Shiro’s skin. 

Shiro strokes his cock in time to swallowing around Keith’s, at least until Keith kneads hard into his neck and chokes out, quietly, “Don’t come. I’m getting you off next.”

Shiro looks up at him and wants to smile, feels the press of Keith’s cock against his cheek as he shifts his head and swallows him down. Keith’s staring down at him, his flush definitely purple now, his pupils slit up like a cat as he pants, mouth open and canines hinting the slightest point. Desire pulses through Shiro and, with effort, he lets go of himself and goes back to cupping Keith’s hips, guiding him in. 

When Keith comes, it seems to take them both by surprise. One moment, Keith’s thrusting into Shiro’s open, willing mouth, and the next he’s tightening up with a sharp cry, body arching. Shiro feels his mouth flood with Keith’s come and he groans, drinking it down. Keith’s cock convulses in his mouth, seems to tighten up and pulse out again, squirming against his tongue. Shiro curls his fingers around his base and coaxes him as deep as he can manage. 

Once he’s sure Keith’s spent, he draws back enough to lick at his length, feeling it softening in his hand, swirling his tongue along the slit and then licking his mouth to make sure he’s gotten every drop. 

“Shiro,” Keith pants, wondering, and Shiro chuckles as he stands on shaky feet and kisses Keith.

He goes in light, tentative, just in case Keith isn’t into a kiss so quick after coming, especially when Shiro’s tongue must taste of him. But Keith seems enthusiastic, groaning and cupping his face, kissing him long, slow, and sloppy. 

Then, just as abruptly, Keith shoves Shiro back down onto his knees and follows, crawling to him, pushing into his space until Shiro tips back, sitting against the wall with Keith folding himself into Shiro’s lap. He kisses him, biting down hard at his lip enough to sting, his teeth definitely little fangs now. 

Keith squirms in Shiro’s lap and Shiro groans when Keith brushes against his thick, hard cock. He’s so close to coming, his body trembling, and Keith breathes and rocks his hips forward. Keith rolls his hips, squeezes his thighs around Shiro’s lap, and Shiro’s panting. Even such a simple touch feels like too much, all the more so when Keith drops a hand down and fists his cock. He strokes him hard, biting down at his neck firm enough that he’ll certainly leave marks. Shiro’s jerking up into his hold, tipping his head back against the sting of Keith’s teeth. A distant part of Shiro reminds him of decorum, but mostly he ignores it, thrilled at the idea of Keith leaving a mark on him. Something small, but _his._

He gasps and squirms at Keith’s unforgiving pace, the squeeze of his hand. Keith pauses in kissing and sucking at Shiro’s neck in favor of staring at Shiro’s cock as it disappears into the circle of his fist, then back out again. He thumbs at the cockhead.

“Bet you’d feel so good inside me,” Keith says, awed, and Shiro tips his head back far enough that he accidentally thumps the wall. Keith laughs and kisses the underside of his chin. 

Shiro comes over Keith’s fingers with a startled gasp and Keith smiles at him, glowing and triumphant, his smile definitely smug and catlike. Shiro pants against his mouth and lets Keith lick into him, lets Keith stroke him hard enough until Shiro whimpers and has to push his hand away, oversensitive. 

“How are you real?” Shiro asks once he’s caught his breath. 

Keith laughs, smile turning shy. Shiro lifts his hand and cups his cheek, thumb tracing the slope of his stripe and then leaning in to kiss him, much sweeter and gentler than before. 

Their foreheads press together as they catch their breath, their eyes meeting and holding again. Somehow, this hasn’t alleviated any of the intensity Shiro felt before. If anything, it’s made it stronger, this need to keep Keith close, to feel Keith in his arms. He licks his lips and watches Keith study the curve of his mouth. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, for no reason other than to say it. 

Keith flushes, but looks pleased, and he smiles at Shiro. There’s a low purr building in his chest and Shiro wonders if he can control the sound at all. It’s soothing. 

The exhaustion nips at Shiro’s heels, deeper than before, but Shiro’s loathed to end this moment, afraid that the moment they exit the ladder room, it’ll be all over. He kisses Keith again rather than think about it and feels Keith melt against him, kissing him back with a pleased little sigh, his mouth soft against Shiro’s. 

When they break apart, it’s just so that Keith can shuffle himself back into his pants and tuck Shiro back into his own for him. Keith’s hair has been knocked loose from his braid and threads of it fall and frame his face, kissing at his collarbones. 

Shiro reaches up and brushes some of it back and away from his face, smiling stupidly at Keith when he looks up at him with an equally shy smile. 

“I need to redo it,” Keith confesses. 

“May I?” Shiro asks. 

Keith gives him a small smile, eyebrows lifting. “I wouldn’t have expected you to know how to braid hair, Captain.” 

Shiro laughs. “Believe it or not, I used to have long hair. Briefly.” 

Keith’s eyebrows lift fully and Shiro takes that as a sign to start working at Keith’s hair. Keith gives a thoughtful hum. 

“Long hair, huh?” Keith asks. 

Shiro laughs. “Like I said, briefly. Very briefly. Back then, it wasn’t even all white yet.” 

Keith scritches his nails against his scalp, like he’s petting a cat. Shiro shivers pleasantly. Keith gentles his touch, lingering as he touches Shiro. 

“I know so little about you,” Keith says, and sounds wistful. 

Shiro unties the tie holding back Keith’s hair and brushes his fingers through the long, inky strands, letting it fall over his shoulder, wavy from being in a braid for so long. He starts plaiting up Keith’s hair, his moves slow and sure. 

Feeling bold, Shiro says, “We could get to know each other more?” 

He focuses on Keith’s hair, making sure it’s as clean and even as it could be. 

“I’d like— I know there’s little options on a starship, but…” Shiro pauses, biting his lip. “If you’d like, I’d really like to have dinner with you. Or… or just to see you again.”

Keith’s eyes flicker up in the dark and meet his, holding. A small amount of panic coils in Shiro’s gut. He’s never _done_ this before. He’s never hooked up with someone, let alone someone who’s only meant to be here for a short time. He doesn’t know Galra customs enough to know if he’s trespassed in some way. He knows Human customs well enough to know that he’s definitely making a bit of an ass of himself. 

But Keith smiles, almost shy, and glances down. He smooths his hands over Shiro’s chest, thumbing at a wrinkle in his uniform. “Captain…” 

“Shiro,” Shiro whispers, helplessly.

“Shiro,” Keith corrects, his smile quicksilver as he looks up at him. “Do you know how the Galra choose their partners?” 

He knows that with his hands pressed to his chest like this, Keith won’t miss the way Shiro’s heart starts galloping. The question could easily be a let-down, or the build-up to something else. Shiro lets himself hope, encouraged by Keith’s little smile.

When Shiro shakes his head, Keith leans in closer, pressing in to kiss him. Shiro nearly loses his grip on Keith’s braid. The kiss is sweet, almost chaste— if it weren’t a kiss coming on the heels of sex. 

“I would really like to have dinner with you,” Keith says once he draws back. His hands slide up Shiro’s chest and hook at the back of his neck, fingers teasing at the short wisps of his hair at the nape of his neck. 

Somehow, when Keith says it like that, it sounds like a promise for forever. And, somehow, the thought isn’t terrifying to Shiro. He welcomes it, cupping his hands over Keith’s and drawing him closer. 

Keith’s braid unravels when Shiro lets go, unspooling and framing his face. “But,” Shiro whispers against his mouth, “How do you pick your partners, then?” 

They break apart and Keith hums, thoughtfully, looking embarrassed. “I… when there’s someone we’re— compatible with, we feel it.” He clears his throat. “It’s— it’ll happen really suddenly, sometimes. I, um.” 

Oh. Shiro feels himself blushing. That might explain the hushed whispers between Krolia and Keith, he thinks, or Krolia’s quick exit. 

“I feel it, too,” he says with a laugh, delirious.

Keith looks up, surprised. “Do you? How? It isn’t perceivable to non-Galra.” 

“Um, well… My grandfather always used to say we had some Betazoid in our family tree. Maybe? Maybe it’s an empathetic connection thing.” Shiro shrugs. He doesn’t know enough about it to speak for sure, only knows those flashes of empathy he feels, occasionally, in his life. 

He does know what he feels, though. 

Keith gives him a curious look and then splays his fingers over his cheek, just below his eye, studying him. “I like the color of your eyes. I can’t imagine them Betazoid-black.” 

Shiro’s mouth quirks into a shy smile. “Would that be a deal-breaker?”

“No,” Keith’s quick to decide, expression softening. “You’d be handsome no matter what.” 

Shiro grins. “You think I’m handsome.”

“ _Obviously,_ ” Keith mutters, squirming in Shiro’s lap. Shiro leans forward and kisses him, sweet and quick. 

“So,” Shiro whispers, once they draw back, “Dinner with me? Tonight?” 

Keith nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

Shiro wonders if his heart is ever going to stop beating so fast. He takes up Keith’s hair again and starts re-braiding it, taking his time, being careful to keep the three sections of hair even. He presses a kiss to Keith's jaw, then his neck, then his shoulder. Once he reaches the tail-end of the braid, he ties it off for him and presses a kiss to his ear. 

Keith sighs, shivering pleasantly in his arms. 

“The, ah… the sunsets on Daibazaal are really nice,” Keith murmurs, apropos of nothing. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Keith says, quiet, his fingers tracing the line of Shiro’s jaw, thoughtfully. “I’d love to show them to you. If you wanted.”

“I’d love to see them.” 

Keith smiles and Shiro thinks there can’t be a sky anywhere, with setting sun or endless starry sky, that could be more beautiful than that. 

“It’s a date,” Keith tells him and beams. 

Shiro grins back and, together, they finally untangle and redress to the best of their abilities. Keith helps smooth out his uniform for him and Shiro holds Keith’s robes open for him to slip into. 

Fifteen dobashes later, when they finally show up for the meeting, Admiral Iverson looks alarmed by the marks on Shiro’s neck. 

Shiro knows he’s going to be scolded later (“That isn’t what I meant by entertaining the diplomats, Shiro!”) but he also can’t care, looking at Keith from across the room for the entirety of the meeting, a big, giddy smile on his face. The smile is mirrored on Keith’s face, too.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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